Cactus music band3/2/2023 ![]() ![]() He'd shake his head, roll his eyes, punch up the monitors and take a drag off a smoke. Other times I'd keep Wedge company in the sound booth during another terminally long night of crappy bands. I would hang in the back and bullshit with Brian, the bartender, who became an expert at heckling bands ("Play the one that doesn't suck" was a favorite) and Hong Kong flicks. Vince was always a cool doorman, still is. Some of my other favorite memories were nonmusical. Tom hid from me the rest of the night, probably cowering in embarrassment. One guy, in regulation suit, tie and double chin, crowed how handsome bassist Tom Walker was, calling him Troy Donahue. When Salmon signed to Red Ant, some label scum bags came to the club, talking about how big they're going to be. For their troubles, they got their set cut short and all their gear getting dumped on the sidewalk. They objected to the rampant "commercialism" of the club's neon beer signs and broke one. Rage Against the Machine had sticks far up their asses. Mystik Journeymen played its first South Bay dates here around the 4001 EP era and killed it with "Depths of Survival." I can still remember the "oohs" when someone wanted to battle Freestyle Fellowship's Aceyalone-he accepted and proceeded to rip the dude a new one. A soused Country Dick would gather the crowd in a campfire circle in the middle of the floor and sing "Are You Drinking with Me Jesus?" Dick would get carried to the bar for Jager shots, and invite the crowd onstage for the kazoo solo during "Happy Boy." I miss that old lug.Ĭactus was one of the few venues that would allow underground hip-hop shows, too. The Beat Farmers were always good for a drunken fun time. The Odd Numbers' set during SoFA Street Fair 1995 was the most chaotic 20 minutes I'd ever spent in any club. A double bill of Pansy Division and the Diesel Queens (playing in full Misfits locks) is burned indelibly in my mind. I remember when Beck played a show months before Odelay blew up. It was a joy to watch Kim Deal lose herself when the Breeders played there in 1997. Now that the witching hour has come, my stance has softened, and you know what? I'm going to miss that piss-poor dump. Why? The Cactus was the only game in town. Then a month later, like clockwork, they'd be on the flyer and up onstage. Bands just chalked it up to paying dues and vowed never to play there again. During my time writing the local music column Beat Street (1993-1998), I knew more bands who swore they'd never play Cactus Club due to bad sound (louder is not always better), poor treatment or getting ripped off. I secretly hated that smelly, sour dump filled with tons of derivative bands that would go nowhere. When I first heard it was closing, I thought, it's about time and good riddance. This Bud's For You: When Rage Against the Machine played the Cactus Club in December of 1992, they got tossed out for breaking a beer sign.ĪH, THE PRACTICE CLUB. ![]()
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